


It Had to be You

by FalovesPa



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, The hobbit modern AU, Thranduil - Freeform, thorin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4964782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalovesPa/pseuds/FalovesPa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Thranduil and Thorin being in love with you, but you die in the BotFA. Reincarnated in modern times, the two Kings are now CEOs of their own companies, and fall for you again. From imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Had to be You

**Author's Note:**

> Songspiration: two sweet ukulele covers, by Jana Ann and by Fathia Izza on Youtube

**_November 23, T.A. 2941, on the bank of the River Running_ **

You lay on your back, looking up in wonder at the two beautiful faces above you, scratched and bloodied, but not broken. 

You saw them only for what they should be.

“Allies.” Your voice was soft, unstrained.

Thranduil was to your left, and Thorin to your right. They exchanged a brief, weighted glance. Then Thorin leaned in close to you, his eyes red.

“You would have our broken hearts unite the two races, Amrâlimê?”

At that, you looked at the spear protruding from your gut. There was no pain, but burning tears slid from your eyes.

“Please forgive me,” you said. Thorin kissed your cheek, while Thranduil squeezed your hand.

Thorin had been the first to give you his heart. After he shed his enormous doubts about your intentions to help his company, he plummeted deeper in love every time your humor and kindness stirred his happiness, which was often.

Then there was Thranduil, instantly smitten by your wit and charm during what were supposed to be intimidating interrogations. Instead of him making you shiver, you made him laugh. His harsh line of questioning gradually turned into deep conversations, though you were careful not to reveal any of Thorin’s secrets.

Thranduil knew where your allegiance was, but he could not believe how crestfallen he became when you escaped with the rest of the company. It was then that he realized he loved you.

As Thorin stroked your hair, Thranduil ordered one of his guards to bring a water flask. Within seconds, he was gingerly pouring some drops over your lips.

“Does this comfort you, meleth?” he asked quietly.

You winced, feeling pain in the pit of your stomach for the first time.

“It’s awful.”

Your last delight was in seeing them smile: two kings, always at odds, sharing a brief, light moment along with their sorrow.

**Present Day**

Telling yourself to remain expressionless, you breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, nice and easy. But you still end up clenching your jaw in anger.

The man with the thick eyebrows, sultry eyes and elegant profile sitting across from you cocks his head and holds a perfectly still side pose as if his short tousled brown hair is longer and heavier than it appears.

Sweeping your eyes across your laptop keyboard, you silently spell out curse words, a habit you fall back on when your mind is too full and your emotions are too high.

“Did you hear me, or am I interrupting a daydream?” Mr. Green asks, straightening his posture.

Even being coarse, his voice is smooth. As the CEO of one of the largest foresters in the world - receiving hundreds of requests every week for donations and sponsorships - his aloofness protects him. That way, he can’t get too close to every noble cause, or every person behind it.

“Yes, I heard,” you say flatly. “You’re not interested in investing in WaterTru. But I must ask, sir, why do you keep calling me back to make presentations?”

Only the right side of his mouth lifts, yet his smile doesn’t look lopsided.

“I’m giving you opportunities to improve your proposal.”

“With all due respect, my proposals have been flawless.”

His mouth opens slightly. People rarely contradict him, much less speak to him so boldly.

But you are no longer concerned about what he thinks. Either he likes your water filtration device enough to invest in its R&D, or he doesn’t.

Hands clasped on the table, his smile disappears as he leans forward and meets your steely eyes.

“You’re right. Please forgive me.”

Whoa! That’s it? Expecting another flippant response, you are almost overwhelmed by those five little words.

You take another cleansing breath before asking him again why he keeps requesting you.

Thranduil relaxes into the cedar chair, crafted from a storm-damaged tree in one of his forests. With one hand draped across the curved arm, his back resting against the framing made to look like elk antlers, he is composed and in charge. His long-sleeved, putty-colored, button-down shirt blends beautifully with the natural finish of the cedar.

“Since that first introduction at the environmental conference,” he begins, “I cannot shake the feeling that we already know each other. I’ve asked you back to confirm my suspicions.”

You let that sink in for a moment.

“But we did first meet at the conference, Mr. Green.” You hope he can’t tell that you’ve had the same sense of déjà vu. You’re still trying to decide if he’s on the prowl.

Thranduil wants to say something else on the subject, but thinks better of it.

“Let’s talk about WaterTru. And you must call me Thranduil.”

He launches into business talk, and by the end of his speech about the myriad filtering solutions your research needs to come up with, he commits to giving you the maximum donation amount allowed under his company’s bylaws, as well as unlimited access to several forest springs for water samples and testing. The board still needs to OK it, but he doesn’t think that will be a problem.

The figure is only half of what you need, but it is more than what you walked in there with, so you’re not complaining.. You thank him with a cool attitude, trying to mirror his demeanor.

“Well, I am positively famished. Join me for dinner?” he asks, getting up.

Your ‘creep’ alarms haven’t sounded, so you feel comfortable walking with him to a nearby farm-to-table outdoor cafe with spectacular city and ocean views.

You order the warm spinach salad as he does, trusting his recommendation. You also request a small glass of water from the tap.

“Bleh. Awful.”

Thranduil laughs but of course he understands why you’re so persnickety. After jotting down some notes on your phone about the aftertaste, you heed another of his suggestions:, and order the coconut lavender lemonade, and you don’t regret it.

“So, what other investors are you talking to?” Thranduil asks, pushing his empty plate aside and sipping his glass of Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Mountain Mining Corp. I fly out tomorrow night.”

Thranduil rolls his eyes, hard. 

Oh, that’s right! you think, mentally kicking yourself for not keeping the legendary beef between the Greens and the Durins fresh on your mind.

“You’re wasting your time,” Thranduil says calmly. “That tightwad is too cheap to pay attention.”

While it’s no secret that Mountain Mining’s CEO makes Ebenezer Scrooge look like Santa Claus, his environmentally responsible company has state-of-the-art mineral research labs that can serve WaterTru more effectively than just money.

“He’s paying for my visit at his own expense, Mr. -Thranduil. That doesn’t sound like a tightwad,” you say defensively.

Thranduil shrugs and takes another swig of wine. The sun is setting, and he is mesmerized by the fire it sets in your eyes. He quickly forgets about throwing shade.

You see him breathe deep when a sweet soprano begins to croon “It Had to Be You” over the speakers.

“Ah. This is my favorite rendition of this song.” The voice has a soothing effect on him, for sure.

You are just as surprised as he when you stand and extend your hand to him. Everything is so perfectly aligned in this moment - sunset, music, wine - it even transcends romance. It would be a shame to watch it pass.

Thranduil rises from his seat and curves his fingertips into yours. You lead him to a wide open space between the tables, face him, and place your left hand in his right. Your other hand presses against the middle of his back, and you keep the side of your face to his chest as you circle slowly together.

You don’t separate when ‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes” plays next. But the magical mood changes fast as the sad lyrics tear through your heart.

♪ Yet today my love has flown away,  
I am without my love ♪

Thranduil feels you shudder and pulls away.

“What’s wrong?”

You feel silly, but he assures you it’s OK to tell him.

“I don’t know why, but this song hurts,” you admit.

He brushes away a strand of hair from your temple. “That’s because the lover was certain his search for happiness was over. But he was very, very wrong.”

Now, only the haunting music fills the air, and you both feel pain spreading from deep in your bellies to every extremity.

Thranduil wants to ask you to stay with him, to help all the hurt go away. But instead, he steps back, and takes on his CEO voice.

“You should prepare for your trip,” he says, and you agree, finding it difficult to look at him.

You schedule a follow-up meeting upon your return, then part amicably, if not a bit forlornly.

After you land and collect your sole suitcase at baggage claim, Mr. Durin’s blonde nephew and a chauffeur meet you outside the terminal.

On the ride to the hotel, the affable Durin reviews your busy itinerary, which includes the presentation for his uncle, fancy meals, visits to the company’s mining projects and the research labs.

You have a fitful sleep, thinking of the upcoming meeting, the dance with Thranduil, the depth of meaning of old songs, and trying to meet your business goals. It’s like hearing too many people trying to talk at once.

But the next day you fight off jet lag, distractions and nerves. You rise bright and early, exercise at the hotel gym, take a long bath, put on your best pinstripes and coordinating footwear, then take a taxi to the company’s headquarters an hour before you need to. 

The outside of the regal office is bathed in a dark craggy stone-like material. On the inside, marbled jade covers the walls, ceilings and floors.

A lobby attendant leads you to an empty meeting room and brings you bottled orange juice and a croissant. You sip and nibble leisurely, loving all the time you have to relax.

But just three minutes later, Mr. Durin appears, his short hair neatly trimmed and still damp from his shower. He is dressed in gray tweed pants and a white pullover.

You stand and pump hands with him, addressing him formally.

“Call me Thorin,” he insists.

Thorin is different from Thranduil: shorter, stouter. And yet, like the forester, he has a strong profile, and there is a subdued majesty about him.

The hearty handshake is followed by an inexplicable period of awestruck silence.

Your arms and his ache for an embrace with a perfect stranger, but your professionalism and good sense prevail. You feel rattled, though, unsure what this odd initial greeting means.

Your laptop, apparently with a mind of its own, brings you back to your task when it begins the PowerPoint before you’re ready. You recover quickly, then let your spiel flow through you like a river.

Thorin listens intently about the special filtration process you developed. He looks over all your charts and asks questions from beginning to end.

Sometimes he seems a bit dubious about your claims of WaterTru’s many potential applications, including boosting the efficiency of irrigation systems. But most of all, he seems genuinely intrigued, by the product and by you.

After the last slide, you do a quick wrap up and thank him for his time. You don’t expect an answer immediately. When it comes to doling out money, most CEOs like to drag out their decisions.

As you’re closing your laptop, however, he makes an announcement.

“I will supply whatever you need to advance your work.”

You bring your hand to your heart, which bumps wildly in your chest. Is this really happening - right here, right now?

You want to scream to the skies but you remain calm, and cautious.

“You do understand, this isn’t a buyout. It’s for R&D only.”

“I understand, and my offer still stands.”

You extend your hand for a deal-closing shake. But Thorin takes your fingers in his palm, without any stiff vertical motions, and just holds your hand in his as if he needs you to gently steady him.

And that’s when the dark cloud appears over your excitement. You have to tell Thorin that Thranduil’s company is involved, and just hope it’s not a deal-breaker.

“Thorin, Green is my other investor.”

You bite your lip and wait for the infamous Durin temper to flare up. But all he does is pull his hand from yours, shake his head, and sigh.

“Release him from his commitment. I can wholly fund your research, and I have the luxury of not having to answer to a board.”

You don’t even entertain the thought. the foresters’ natural springs are as important to your work as Mountain Mining’s labs, and you tell him so.

Thorin blows out a short breath, then relaxes.

“Well, I can’t say I’m delighted to hear Thranduil is part of this,” he says, “but I will bear uniting with him for a worthy effort, Amrâlimê.”

All at once, the spacious room seems to shrink down to a shoebox, suffocating you both. 

“Pardon me?” you ask.

Thorin rips his deep blue eyes from yours.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs. He gets up and steps away from the polished oak table, then heads for the door. He says something about getting the paperwork emailed to you straight away, thanks you, and then exits.

Part of you is relieved that he canceled dinner. Whatever transpired when you held hands is still stirring you to the core.

But back at the hotel that evening, after enjoying a light room-service supper, there is a soft knock.

You don’t have to look through the keyhole to know who it is. After sweeping open the door, you and Thorin stare at each other across the threshold.

“How do we know each other?” His voice sounds so tired. “I’ve been wracking my brain.”

You shake your head. It’s another mystery, just like with Thranduil.

“I have no idea, Thorin.”

Whatever it is about you saying his first name outside of the stuffiness of a meeting room makes him smile, and it is a beautiful sight.

“What was that lovely name you called me?”

He looks completely dumbfounded, and worries that his answer will make him sound like an idiot: “No clue.”

He doesn’t know that you find his honesty and humility quite endearing. 

Thorin brings his hands behind his back and rocks on his dark brown Barker Black shoes.

“Will you join me for a drink downstairs?” he asks.

You return the grin that’s still lighting up his face.

“Yes.”

A mix of old and new pop, jazz, and indie music quietly plays throughout the hip, minimally-decorated contemporary bar area while Thorin sips Scotch and you - ever the researcher -order water.

“This will taste so much better when our product is on the market,” you gush.

Thorin peers at you through the bottom of his near-empty glass and smiles again. He is about to respond to you when a somewhat stunned look comes over your face. You look up and around, following Billie Holiday’s voice singing “It Had To be You.”

“Not a Lady Day fan, I take it?” Thorin asks.

“Oh, no, I’m a fan. And this song - it means a lot to me.” Of course you don’t tell him why.

“I am also a fan, but I’m not particularly fond of this song.”

“Why not?”

Thorin stares at the half-teaspoon of liquid still in his glass.

“Hm. ‘I wandered around,’ she says. Sometimes I don’t need to be reminded how hard and long the search is.”

He starts to motion for the bartender to bring him another drink, but at your next words, he lowers his hand and concentrates on you.

“Think about what it’s really saying.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Enlighten me.”

Thorin already knows the song’s message. But for reasons unclear, he needs to hear it from you, and he needs this moment between you to go on for as long as you will allow.

You run your index finger along the rim of your glass, feeling content and sure, each of you stealing peeks at the other. When you’re caught, you both laugh softly, feeling embarrassed but more alive than you have in a long time.

“It’s saying, the search is finally over.”


End file.
